「𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚌𝚘𝚊𝚕 𝚋𝚕𝚞𝚎𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚌 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚘𝚛」
❝𝚃𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚖𝚎 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚝𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚎, 𝚁𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚘.❞
➥ Hyunjin x Reader (f) — 23.4k (~98 min. read)
➥ Jazz Era, Opposites Attract, Sentimental Sexy
⚠ — (Non-exhaustive, full cw policy here): Down horrendous Hyunjin agenda™ but he is Jack Dawson drawing you like one of his Italian girls, HEAVY mutual pining, class differences, period-typical stereotypes and shallow views, angst, first times, guided & mutual masturbation (HNG!), smut with feelings, strong language.
➥ All it takes is a promising concert pianist crossing paths with a lowly jazz bar saxophonist in front of a lighthouse, and nothing is the same after that.
A story of two souls deliriously falling in love with each other despite everything that stands between them.
*a/n: If you remember this, you're an OG. It's back home now with a fresh rewrite for a wholesome kickoff to 2026, and it's mandatory to fall in love with him.
Fun fact 1: Romeo + Juliet (1996) and Titanic (1998) are two of my all-time favorite romance movies. This story was written in 2023 because a) I had a massive crush on '90s Leo, and b) I am salty as FUCK with the tragic-ass endings to these stories, so I had to make my own. The reason why I cast Hyunjin as the protagonist is at the bottom of this post.
Fun fact 2: This is the story referenced in Take 1 of Unconditional.
Love doesn’t feed you. It never will.
A true lady is judged based on the elegance of her wardrobe, her eloquence, her manners, and the lack of creases on her skin. That’s phase one. Then she needs to learn how to play fucking chess with her femininity, and mind games training starts as early as the age of sixteen.
Be subtle, never direct. Only insinuate. Be classy, never trashy. Learn the skills that will contribute to your added value.
The assigned roles have always been there. Esteemed women aren’t supposed to taint their perfectly manicured hands with manual labor like some commoner, but there is still a way for them to get a taste of prosperity. They aren’t much different than an overpriced gold watch if you think about it, solely existing to adorn some big spender’s arm.
‘Rich’ is doomed to run out, but ‘wealthy’ is forever.
Therefore, starting from the second you turn legal, it is of utmost importance to be desirable by many, preferably by people of affluent descent, so that you can have your pick. There is nothing wrong with giving them the illusion that they can be the one to have you. Men live to be a source of envy, after all.
Tease but never give in. Gently caress their egos until they’re about to burst. Make them dependent on you. Addicted even.
But you have to do it before you reach a certain age, of course. A double-edged sword, indeed.
Dignified women are never invited to be an active part of the cognac-induced laughter fits of men, but they are supposed to politely applaud their business triumphs while serving the cognac. If you have enough money to burn, you can afford to tell other women to serve the bitter drink to a room full of gentlemen in a lavishly decorated guest room.
Otherwise, this gathering would take place at some club established solely for their pleasure. They are called Gentlemen’s Clubs for a reason, yet it is such a poor choice of a name.
Since there is absolutely nothing gentlemanly going on inside.
But somebody has to do it. Somebody has to take on the monumental responsibility of entertaining the married men of this town. Their wives take care of them, but they don’t entertain them. That’s why courtesanship is among the most well-paying jobs of this day and era despite all the trash talk revolving around it. You know, not much different than the beginning of time.
Of course it isn’t considered cheating. Why would it? Burlesque entertainment is one of the finer pleasures in life that only a select few get to enjoy. It isn’t the patrons’ fault if the services include exchanging physical affection for money. Of course it isn’t their fault.
Because this is a man’s world we live in, and courtesans will never be considered worthy of respect.
Much like everybody your age, you were taught to be a suitor magnet as well. Manners fully intact, knows how to gracefully regale, makes herself scarce when the brandy bottle is out, knows how to light up a cigar, also smoke one if need be. If you were paid money on top of all that, you would make one fine courtesan.
Minus the sex. That corset your mother made you wear to protect your virginity was complicating things a little.
It wasn’t that she didn’t trust you; she didn’t trust anyone else. At least that was what she claimed. God forbid you gave in to the cravings of the flesh before marriage, what a tragedy it would be. Who would want a plum no matter how juicy and sweet when someone already took a bite from it? How would your dear mother be able to walk with her head held high ever again? How could you ever hope to attract well-off heirs to close that monetary abyss you had recently inherited from your late father?
People would leave jewelry, antiques, or at the very least something of sentimental value to their children, and your share of family heirlooms was pain. A burden that wasn’t necessarily yours, but was passed on to you to take care of nevertheless.
Love doesn’t feed you. It never will.
Your mother would know. She just didn’t think it would change anything if you knew the reason why. She was resenting your father enough for the both of you anyway.
All the more reason why it frustrated the heck out of you that you were met with a firm ‘No’ every time you expressed your interest in working.
“And do what? Stick out among men and become a target? I’m not going to have you called a whore.”
“Mother, please listen…”
“My word is final. Do not bring this to me again.”
How was she this blind to her own contradictions? You weren’t allowed to make an honest living, but technically, you were still expected to sell something.
You weren’t clueless. The day you had your first period, your loyal family aide Shima, who was more like a much older sister to you, told you all about a man’s serpent visiting a woman’s den and how much men liked it when the den was untouched.
“Are there untouched serpents, too?”
“Serpents move by crawling on the floor, young lady. They touch by design.”
“But wouldn’t women like untouched serpents more? There would be less dirt.”
“They would maybe, but they can’t.”
“But why?”
“Because it’s not possible.”
“But why?”
“Because it’s just the way it is.”
“But why?”
“Okay, young lady, no more questions.”
Your ‘problem child’ tendencies also included hoarding knowledge like a dragon hoards gold, but nobody needed to know about that. Intelligent women were nothing but anomalies that needed to be quarantined to prevent further spread, even amputated if need be. You needed to be dumb, dull, malleable, and live to please your husband. That was your job. Look pretty, act pretty, talk pretty, and charm people so that your husband could make money because this was a man’s world you were living in.
Then again, wouldn’t that make you the original business negotiator here? Wouldn’t that make you the breadwinner?
Goddamn men and their gatekeeping.
Among everything you were expected to master, you accidentally developed a severe passion for one of them. So much so that you fell head over heels in love with it.
Music.
You studied Chopin and Beethoven and Liszt and Mozart and many many others. All those pieces were like fine china that needed to be treated delicately not to break them. No mistakes allowed. Precise keystrokes. Gentlest bootcamp. Of course there were no ranks to be obtained at graduation because in what universe did women get to be sergeants? Nevertheless, you got this inexplicable kick out of being able to juggle those china cups with effortless finesse.
Other than playing your sorrows away, all you could do with your prowess was to entertain fancy crowds that may or may not have your future husband among them. That was it. It was a skill to be traded in exchange for staying afloat.
Society might have branded this as manners training all it wanted, but for you, this was nothing short of being whored around.
And if your mother dared ask for dowry, it would officially make her your pimp.
I’ve always had a problem staying still. I won’t bore you with the details of every single incident, but I never shied away from breaking a few rules here and there for the sake of being on the move. No, I’m not sorry, and I would do it all over again.
People use many different words when they talk about me. “Free spirit” is one of them. “Rascal” is another. Bin says I’m also “easily moved” and teases me a lot for it, but that’s not true. I’ve never been easily moved; I’m just moved a lot when something manages to squeeze my soul, which doesn’t happen that often. There is a difference.
Our neighborhood was what the bourgeoisie called the “the ghetto”, harboring people from many ethnicities. The living conditions might have been less than ideal, but we weren’t necessarily unhappy. I spent my entire childhood thinking we were living inside an everlasting carnival with all those different languages loudly spoken from door to door. Everybody laughed the same, though.
I left home with Dad every morning. On his way to work, he would drop me off at our next-door neighbor Mr. De Luca’s barbershop. He had agreed to take me in as an apprentice after I begged him many many times. He was a magician with his scissors, and I really wanted to learn the tricks of the trade. He always said my hands were “way too dexterous” and that I would have no problem earning a living with them. I didn’t understand what that meant at the time.
When my friends were back from school in the afternoon, we played football with soda caps in front of our building until dinnertime, and then everyone would go back home for their share of home-cooked meals. For us, it was just my old man and me, but the De Lucas frequently called us over for dinner.
I didn’t go to school. We weren’t able to afford it with the wage my father was making, but I’m not illiterate. Mrs. De Luca taught me how to read and do math. Mr. De Luca taught me to be a craftsman. My dad taught me to live passionately, and I’m sure my mom would teach me a few things, too, if she were alive. We were missing a piece in our hearts, but I’ve never felt the absence of love in my life.
One day, Mr. De Luca’s nephew came to the shop to visit him. A young man by the name of Tiziano who looked about twenty years of age. He called me fratello. I loved how the word rang in my ear. He was such a handsome guy with a tall posture and tanned skin, and when he smiled at the ladies in our neighborhood, they would nudge each other and giggle a lot. I wanted to be like him when I became a man.
Tiziano was always carrying a leather-bound folder with him. There were a lot of papers and a black stick inside. I still clearly remember the tingling sensation that started from my nape and traveled down my spine when he showed me what was on the papers. I felt like some invisible witch was casting a spell on me.
That was the moment I saw a charcoal drawing for the first time.
I begged my father for charcoal sticks and paper so that I could learn how to draw like Tiziano. Not to brag or anything, but my progress was quite fast. I’m not a genius by any means; I just don’t know how to like things. When something piques my interest, I obsess over it day and night. I lost sleep many nights trying to perfect the shading of an apple even though no one was putting a gun to my head. Mr. De Luca would scold me a lot on the mornings I was late to the barbershop because I overslept, but it wasn’t that big a deal. He would tell me not to do it again, knowing full well I would do it again. He hated the fact that he couldn’t stay mad at me for too long, calling me a ‘fucking charming spawn of the devil’.
I learned a lot of the curse words in my vocabulary from him.
When I saw Tiziano again a few years later, the ladies I smiled at were nudging each other and giggling at me, too. I showed him how much I improved with my very own leather-bound folder over dinner at Mr. De Luca’s, and he invited me to come back with him to Italy so that we could draw together. So that I could experience life. So that I could have a “broader horizon”, whatever the fuck that means. I agreed in a heartbeat.
The first time I saw a naked woman was at Tiziano’s studio in Rome. He was friends with a lot of streetwalkers, which gave me a chance to study the human body so that I could draw nudes. I still remember the exchange I had with a very beautiful lady called Giulia when I was alone in the studio with her.
“Do I turn you on, handsome?” she walked up to me while putting on her robe.
“You do.”
“If you want to fuck me, you can. I won’t ask for money.”
I shared my honest thoughts with her wrapped in a smile.
“But I’m not in love with you, Giulia.”
She laughed at my face for quite a while and pinched my cheek when her laughter died down. She said I was cute but an absolute fool. I couldn’t blame her. I knew people who would commit murders to be with a goddess like Giulia. Nevertheless, if not wanting to touch someone I don’t feel anything for other than lust makes me a fool, so be it. You can’t insult me with that. When I returned home, my virginity was still fully intact.
I always thought I would go on to become a barber myself, but my little European adventure left me aching for something more. I knew I wasn’t going to make it as an artist, and I still didn’t know what I wanted to dedicate myself to other than charcoal, so I opted for taking odd jobs here and there to maintain a living until I did. Whenever I have the time, I hang out at the pier, the square, the parks, and street corners because I enjoy people-watching a lot. I enjoy depicting raw as fuck shit through charcoal shadows. People kissing. A woman breastfeeding. The longing gaze of a young lad watching a girl knitting in the distance. It makes me happy.
But what made me happier was seeing you for the first time on a bench by the pier one afternoon as I was looking for something to draw.
You were just sitting there, gazing into the distance. You were so perfectly still besides the occasional sighs you heaved that it felt like you were sitting for a private sketch. I pretended that you were indeed modeling for me and tried my best to capture you in grayscale as fast as I could. Your drooping shoulders. Your resigned eyes. The intricately ornate jade comb in your hair.
I looked at that sketch a lot in the subsequent days.
I was so drawn to you for some reason. I wanted to sit next to you and ask why you were so sad. I wanted to ask if you liked candy apples. It would cheer anyone up, right?
But I couldn’t. I didn’t want to intrude on your alone time despite the raging urge inside me to do so.
Then I noticed you were there again. And again. And again.
You’re at the pier every day.
You come at noon sharp. You just sit there on your bench, having a silent conversation with the sea. An hour later or so, a woman who looks like your aide comes to pick you up, and you leave with her. Every day, you look a bit sadder. It wrenches my heart to see the gloom in your beautiful eyes.
Every day, I impatiently check my watch, and when the time nears noon, I just bolt to the pier from wherever the fuck I am just to see you again.
I only draw with my charcoal, but you make me hear fucking colors. I don’t even know your name, but you’ve already become my muse. I go to bed every night praying for your happiness because I have never seen you smile. And I’m dying to witness it in its full glory.
If only I could steal one glimpse of your eyes looking at me. I know I’m probably going to lose my damn mind when and if that happens, but I’d love to hold some of your apparent heartache for you if it means you can rest a little easy.
One day… One of these days, I’ll muster up enough courage to come sit next to you.
Please fix your posture, young lady.
Please eat more slowly, young lady.
Please do not laugh loudly and cover your mouth, young lady.
“To hell with being a lady!” you threw your pencil towards the corner of Practice Room VIII where you were all alone.
Yes, you were supposed to be ladylike, and by god, you could get in character on cue, but you were on the brink of violently snapping and going on a rampage. You had less than zero interest in tea ceremonies or how many different styles you could braid your hair in. You wanted to learn marksmanship instead. You wanted to learn how to play pool. You wanted to do other things. As unladylike as they could be.
Like hell your mother would let you.
When you earned a full scholarship from The Institute of Fine Arts, shots were obviously fired in your household. It took a relentless battle of wits, but you refused to back down at any cost. Not when it came to music, not a chance. You eventually emerged victorious.
Because you happened to know about your mother’s biggest blind spot that was only supposed to be taken advantage of as a last resort.
Prestige.
Not only was The Institute notoriously selective, but only the ultra-elite could afford that monstrosity of tuition anyway. And you already making a name for yourself as ‘the piano genius’? Potentially befriending the crème de la crème of high society in the meantime?
That had got to extinguish the protest fire.
And it indeed did. For quite a long while. Things were going a bit too well to not get suspicious. You were living in dread, anticipating the moment when it would all come crashing down.
The doomsday finally manifested itself in the form of your mother waltzing her way into the living room, interrupting your reading time with an unnecessarily high-pitched voice.
“Fan–tas–tic news!” she chirped and walked towards you with long and quick steps. “Look what just came in the mail.”
“My very own pumpkin carriage,” you quipped, expecting the joke to be stillborn, but she actually responded to you.
“Actually, yes!”
It was a burgundy velvet box she was ceremoniously holding in her hands as if it were a tray. When she opened it, you saw a fancy-looking envelope as well as a 24K golden shamrock pendant with drops of emeralds inside the leaves.
“A… necklace,” you observed, unimpressed.
“Guess who it is from. Guess!”
“I don’t know, Mother. Just tell me.”
You obviously lied. The O’Connor family was in the newspapers almost every day, and everybody in the town knew that shamrocks were basically their coat of arms. They were one of the highest-regarded people in the entire country, and it was mind-blowing to you how they obtained that status while clearly being involved in some shady business.
No one ever got that rich that fast by doing something honest, and it didn’t take a genius to conclude that. The things people got away with if—
“Bridget O’Connor!” your mother squealed in utter excitement. “In her letter, she says she has seen you perform at your year-end concert, and she’s officially asking your hand in marriage for her youngest son Ryan!!!”
Your heart didn’t only drop to your stomach; it hit every possible sharp edge along the way and almost bled to death. It was tragically ironic that such a beautiful and delicate piece of jewelry meant a life sentence for you.
“Don’t–Don’t I have any say in this?!”
“This is no time to be joking, dear. It’s the O’Connors we’re talking about! Wear this. Wear it!”
“Mother…”
As she hurriedly put the shamrock on you, Shima watched you getting cuffed with big, concerned eyes. Being put on a leash. Being forced to wear a straitjacket. Whatever the hell you want to call it.
“Out of all the people you could impress… I am so proud of you, dear!” your mother left a big kiss on the crown of your head.
She had never once said she was proud of you for any of your achievements so far. Not even when you earned the top rank of your entire class. She had never kissed you with that much affection before. Not even during your father’s funeral.
You locked yourself in your room that night and cried yourself to sleep.
You were already living on a schedule. The time you got up, to have breakfast, for school, to come back home, for dinner, to go to bed… Everything was decided for you as if you were still a kid. You went to school at 9 a.m. You had your lunch break at noon. Shima and your chauffeur picked you up to drive you back to school at 1 p.m., and you had your afternoon classes until 4 p.m. Then you went back home.
You were enduring it, but you were just a ticking time bomb in the making.
The truth was when it was supposed to be your lunch break, you spent your time at the pier. You never had lunch during that time. Even if you did, the knot in your throat that was the size of a fist wouldn’t let you swallow anyway. You kept thinking about your impending doom instead.
What was it all for anyway? Once you got married, you were probably only going to be playing the piano for Ryan and whatever company he was going to have. Even the mere thought of it made you sick to your stomach. You wished there was a way for you to make good money with music so that you could tell people to leave you the fuck alone.
You only… wished.
But one of those days, you noticed something during a visit to the pier.
To your left, something gleaming under the sunlight attracted your attention. A young man sitting three benches away from you, seemingly drawing on stationery, was wearing a silver necklace with a cross pendant. Then you made the mistake of actually looking at his face.
Your heart fell from your chest.
It could not be possible for a human being to be this beautiful. It was criminal, to say the least. Perfect features on a perfect face that belonged to a perfect body. He put every living thing to shame. Did he know how blinding he was? Was he aware of his own beauty, or completely oblivious to it?
Judging by how nonchalantly he was crossing his legs on that bench, drawing away whatever was in front of him and not paying attention to anything else, it had to be the latter. But just…
How?
You kept going back to the pier during your lunch hours, just hoping against hope that you would see him again. You never initiated a conversation with him; just knowing that he was there, keeping you silent company in the distance was enough for you. A part of you felt a little jolt every time you caught a glimpse of him, but even then, it was short-lived. The second something warm started spreading in your chest, the screams of your ugly reality began to echo in your head again, and that unknown warmth dissipated as quickly as it appeared.
Yet, every time you walked away from the pier, you thought about the man with the silver chain. He was your only distraction from reality. From having to get married. From the leash decorating your neck. From your mother’s incessant requests.
Eventually, the day you got vehemently sick of the military precision of your timetable arrived. One day, you decided to lie without even batting an eye at the dinner table, and if anybody asked, you could confidently say you had enough of having every single aspect of your life heavily scrutinized. You were your own person, too. You were entitled to your own life and decisions, too.
You were simply done playing this role you did not even audition for.
“I have been selected to perform at the Spring concert. It’s quite important as the Mayor’s family attends every year, so I have to practice.”
Technically, it wasn’t a lie. There was a Spring concert, but the auditions weren’t even until the end of the month. Then again, nobody in your household needed to know about that.
“The Mayor?” your mother put down her fork loudly. “Does he attend with his wife only, or—?”
“They attend as a family, Mother. To answer your actual question, yes, his sons are going to be there, too.” Then you turned to Shima calmly. “Starting Monday, please come pick me up at 10 p.m. instead. That’s when my practice sessions will end.”
“Isn’t that quite late, young lady?”
“Our building is very well secured, and I will not be alone. The entire concert ensemble will be there as well,” you wiped your mouth with a linen napkin and stood up on your feet. “As Mother will also agree, this is the Mayor’s family I need to impress, so I believe me staying late is not as scandalous as it sounds. Thank you for the meal.”
By whatever miracle you were owed, nobody questioned it. What you actually did during your freedom hours, on the other hand, was just walking. On the main boulevard. On the streets that you didn’t know. Sometimes on the walking path by the sea. You just walked and walked and walked. Sometimes you even openly wept, not caring about how people stared at you. Not giving a single damn about how ugly you looked. How unladylike your behavior was.
Then one evening…
You heard something for the first time accompanying the gentle melodies of a piano coming from a place with no sign outside. When you approached the door, you were met with a question that you most certainly did not expect.
“C Minor?”
Was this person asking for the notes comprising the chord? Or was it some completely irrelevant password he was looking for? Having no other alternative, you gave him the only answer you had in store.
“C, E-flat major, G.”
The door opened. You were met with a large neon sign inside that spelled Poseidon. You had heard about this club, but never in a favorable context. Your mother and her friends called that place and the women entertaining crowds in it deplorable. Casting those rumors aside, you followed the notes that were like a hand made of cartoonish smoke luring you in, only to find yourself in a large music hall.
The mysterious sound you heard was coming from a gold-colored saxophone. You couldn’t quite see who was playing it since the orchestra was hidden in the shadows, but it didn’t stop you from falling in love at first sight. You would petition for it to be called a sexophone for it was the most sensuous of instruments, but even that much would probably get caught by the censor radar anyway.
“And now, please welcome the First Lady of Song, Ella Simone.”
Then the richest voice you had ever heard filled the entire hall. You could literally smell it. It smelled like a burning cinnamon stick and caramel. This was the first time you heard someone singing from their soul instead of their diaphragm. People were losing their minds, calling out to the ‘First Lady’, men and women alike. It was nothing short of mass hysteria. You had never witnessed something like this before in your entire life.
Music did that. Nothing else.
After a couple of hours in that place, you resolved to sneak out to Poseidon to take in the talent of the greats. Cassidy, Simone, Parker, Cole… The names they never taught you at the great great Institute. During your free practice hours at school, you started learning jazz pieces, that ‘depravity music’ that was frowned upon by the pretentious high society. By ear. You didn’t need any sheet music to decipher those emotions. You didn’t want to fathom what would happen if your mother heard you were indulging in this instead of practicing soulless piano concertos.
But a part of you just did not care anymore.
The reasons for me to take a job at Poseidon were threefold.
First off, Poseidon is a speakeasy. It’s not someplace you can get in just by throwing cash at it. You need to know a password for fuck’s sake, and if you’re not a music aficionado, then buh-bye.
Secondly, it didn’t feel like work. My shifts were at night, and it was just me and my boys playing pool most of the time instead of at the neighborhood pub. Mr. De Luca hated the fact that I was wasting away my youth, but I was having a great time being a backstage support staff.
And finally, the saxophone.
Good god, the fucking saxophone.
The first time I heard it was when Mr. Coltrane Parker played it on stage. People were losing their minds over it, as they should have, I mean. I clearly remember how I was nailed to my place because of how mesmerized I was by him. This could be it. This could be what I could dedicate myself to because I could swear I was seeing notes float in the air. They felt like colored charcoal lines to me.
Since I was supposed to be backstage, I could get my hands on that blonde beauty anytime I wanted. I came to work several hours early in the afternoon just so I could practice.
“You know you’re not supposed to touch those, right?”
I nearly died that day.
Ms. Pearson, former courtesan turned manager, had busted me practicing without permission. Even though I kept telling myself I was going to get fired, she didn’t say anything to anyone and basically adopted me instead. I think she developed a soft spot for me after I told her my father had passed and that I had no family.
She’s the one who bought me my very own saxophone. A King Super 20. Just like the legend himself uses. The fucking Cadillac of saxes. I almost came in my pants when she showed that to me.
Poseidon is a jazz speakeasy, but most men come here because of the courtesans accompanying them. They are very hardworking ladies; I wish they earned more. All the staff working in this club are very friendly with one another. We see each other every damn day, more than our families.
Well, the last part doesn’t really pertain to me, but you get what I mean.
There’s this one girl who seems particularly interested in me. Raquelle. Bin keeps telling me to hit that, but with all due respect, that’s just outrageous. Just because she’s a courtesan doesn’t mean I have to make advances on her.
That being said, I’m not dumb. I notice how she flirts with me all the time, slipping in innuendos in her sentences even when we talk about the most mundane things. All my boys have already turned into a Giulia, telling me what a massive fool I am for not bedding her. I’ve told you this before; I can’t just casually touch people. Not just romantically, I’m not a touchy-feely person in general, but Raquelle seems to ignore that. Eventually, I had to just give it to her straight when she attempted to throw her arm around my shoulder backstage.
“Could you… not do that?”
“Why?” she shot me a sultry look. “Do I get you excited?”
“I don’t like it when people touch me.”
“Oh. Sorry.”
I didn’t mean to offend her, but she had to know her boundaries. Nevertheless, not only did she misread the situation, but she also completely misunderstood me.
“It’s because I’m a courtesan, isn’t it?” she spoke to me with a broken smile that did not suit her at all. “Because I’m tainted.”
No, it was because she wasn’t you, but I couldn’t tell her that. It would hurt her feelings. You, on the other hand, could be the most sought-after courtesan here, and I still would dedicate an entire shrine after you.
“You’re not tainted, Raquelle.”
“Then one kiss,” she insisted when no one was looking. “That’s all I’m asking.”
“You’re the prettiest woman in this room. In most rooms, for that matter. You know that,” I brushed her silky hair behind her ear as kindly as I could. “But don’t ask me to do impossible things.”
I could tell she was upset from the way her face drastically changed. Her eyes were looking at me with utter disdain.
“People actually pay me to kiss them, you know?”
“I know,” I confirmed. “And I’d say you should charge more.”
Even Ms. Pearson took notice of the hostile tension between us one day. She cornered me by the bar to get the tea from me directly, as she would call it.
“She’s very pretty and clearly wants you. Why the cold shoulder?”
How do I explain this? I’m just not attracted to a woman just because she’s a woman. Or because she’s pretty. Or because she has nice tits, like why is this so hard to understand? Why the fuck does this keep coming up as a point of conversation, painting me as the oddest one out in the room?
“It doesn’t have anything to do with her personally, Ms. Pearson,” I opted for a shortcut. “I’m just not interested.”
I will never forget what happened the very next night.
It was a Thursday, and Ms. Ella Simone was the headliner that day. The boys and I were done with the backstage prep, so we were just shooting the shit and playing pool at the very back of the audience area. Every once in a while, I was checking in with the stage to confirm everything was going smoothly. But then…
I thought my eyes were deceiving me for a second, but I saw you. I swear I saw you. You were there, a little behind the group of people crowding the edge of the stage. By yourself. Standing.
This was the first time I saw you somewhere other than the pier. The first time I saw you wrapped in darkness rather than the sunlight.
But more importantly, this was the first time I saw you smiling.
You were completely entranced while watching the greats create magic and entrance the masses. I, on the other hand, was hypnotized by the way the corners of your lips curled.
God, you’re beautiful when you smile, and I don’t use that word liberally. One glance at you, and I was riddled with this intense urge to kiss you in the most innocent sense of the word possible.
“YES!” I was pulled back to earth when Bin yelled right next to me. “You’re buying the next round.”
He had obviously obliterated me because of how distracted I was. I didn’t pay any mind; he could ask for a hundred rounds for all I cared.
“Yeah, sure, whatever, man,” I answered him with my eyes still on you.
I really wanted to know if this was just a coincidence or if you were coming here regularly. I wanted to know what days you would be here so that I could put on my fanciest shirt for you. I will learn how to tie a tie for you. I’ve never used one before.
Maybe you would like me then.
The very next morning, when I said I was heading to the pier to draw, my boys decided to accompany me just because they were bored at the house. I didn’t talk the whole way there. I was thinking about you. I was thinking about whether you were going to show up with your floral-pattern dress that day. I’m very fond of it because it makes you look like a cherry blossom garden.
“Hey, ain’t that your girl over there?” Bin nudged me on the shoulder.
When I looked up, I indeed saw you sitting down on your bench. You were way too early. It wasn’t even noon. I didn’t know what to do with my hands or myself in general.
“Shit, it’s her.”
“The fuck are you waiting for, man? She’s alone.”
What was I waiting for? I was waiting to be worthy of you maybe. We were clearly universes apart; I knew that from the second I noticed your jade comb. I know how expensive those are, and I can’t even buy you something half as valuable even if I worked my ass off.
“I don’t–I don’t wanna disturb her. Maybe she’s waiting for someb—”
“GO!”
And just like that, I was pushed to face my fate head-on by my brothers. They had a point because if it were up to me, I would just watch you from afar for as long as I lived. As I got up, my eyes darted to the old man selling candy apples at the corner, and without even thinking about it, I bought one. I knew it wasn’t a jade comb, but…
Maybe…
My throat had never been this dry as I was walking towards you. I felt like I was approaching my demise, but at the back of my head, I caught myself repeating the same thing.
I’m ready. I’m ready to die.
I don’t really know how to be gentlemanly. I didn’t receive some manners training like the bourgeois guys famously do. Heck, I don’t even have proper schooling.
But I noticed your shoelaces were untied.
When I finally reached you, I kneeled to tie them without giving it much thought as if I were a marionette. I didn’t deserve to be in your presence when you were a queen and I was just a simple man. I didn’t deserve to breathe in the same air as you when you were a goddess and I was just a mere mortal.
But our worlds had collided somehow and there we were, sitting right next to each other on a bench under the morning sun. I forgot all the words in my vocabulary as I handed you the candy apple. You took a glance at it and then looked at me. Then you looked at the candy again and finally took it from my hands. You weren’t wearing your floral-pattern dress, but you were wearing a white one that had little hearts on it. It suited you so much, and you looked so beautiful that I wanted to fucking punch myself in the face.
“You have it so easy, Romeo,” you spoke while looking at the sea solemnly. “I’m madly envious of you.”
I was a complete stranger to you. I know you didn’t mean it like the astronomically lovesick fictional man; you were just being mordant, but the sorrow in your voice was more palpable than anything else.
Nevertheless, you did call me Romeo.
“There’s nothing expected of you,” you continued your monologue. “You can be whoever you want to be, and people would still give you a standing ovation. You can be with whoever you want to, bed whoever you want to, and no one would shame you for it. I would die laughing if you told me you had a curfew. Mere mortals like me can only dream of what you readily have at your disposal. We come and go as your kind pleases, and I have to get married to someone I barely know as a form of financial security. Did you know?”
I couldn’t say anything. I just listened and listened and listened, hoping against hope that the block of lead on your heart would at least move an inch. Dump it on me, I don’t care. You don’t deserve to be riddled with worry. Your soul is too beautiful for that. You deserve to be the happiest person in the room instead.
In all rooms, for that matter.
“I apologize for unloading on you like that. I don’t have any friends,” you wistfully smiled at the candy apple. “And forgive my lack of response to your kindness. I have never received a present before.”
My eyes followed you when you stood up. My heart stopped when you held my gaze. I died a thousand deaths when you put your hand on my face.
“I hope the world gives birth to more people like you, Romeo.”
You left. All I could do was watch you walk away until you shrank into a dot in the distance. My soul was being ripped apart with every step you took. Please don’t walk away from me, I beg.
I think I’m falling in love with you, Juliet.
The day you and your mother were supposed to meet Bridget O’Connor’s camp for lunch and shopping, the sky was so bleak that it could not be a coincidence. Apparently, even the weather gods felt the need to cast an appropriately dismal background to project the fog that had colonized your soul.
Or they were maybe just mocking you, who knows?
“Ah, what a pleasing sight! Such pure beauty,” Mrs. O’Connor squeezed your face when she saw you, lightly sinking her demonically long nails into your cheeks in the meantime. “Nowadays, even common streetwalkers call themselves a lady just because they put on makeup. Despicable.”
You didn’t talk much throughout the entire lunch. Nobody directly asked you anything anyway. You felt more like an auction item on display, listening to people discussing your price as you ate your soup. You silently followed behind as your mother and Mrs. O’Connor bonded over whatever it was they were gossiping about. You didn’t pay any attention. You just walked watching the patterns on the pavement instead. After entering the department store, you didn’t feel like joining them in their wardrobe conquests.
“I have utmost faith in your taste. I will be fine with whatever you pick for me. Thank you very much.”
You politely excused yourself towards the bookstore corner of the huge hall and left the ladies to lose their minds over accessories and dresses and shoes and whatnot. You walked between the aisles and browsed and browsed with blank eyes. You weren’t even processing what you were looking at, for your mind was crawling with grim thoughts.
“Wedding preparations?”
Your heart almost gave out when you heard a voice inside your left ear. You sharply inhaled to suppress your shriek and pressed your hand on your chest, trying to stabilize your frantic breathing. When you finally calmed down, you turned to your left, just to have your heartbeat go crazy again.
It was him. The man with the silver chain from the pier, looking at you with an apologetic smile and chuckling to himself.
Romeo.
This was the very first time you heard his voice, and it was just so… So…
Soothing.
“Actually, yes,” you quickly turned to face the books again.
“Why aren’t you with your folks then?”
Good question. These pre-wedding shopping sprees were supposed to be one of the most fun things about getting married, but in all honesty, it felt more like your mother was packing underwear for you to use in jail.
“I don’t feel like shopping for my own imprisonment,” you put the poetry book in your hand back on the shelf and uttered solemnly. “So it would be preferable if you indeed gave me a heart attack right about now.”
His face dropped along with yours as you picked up another book to flip through. The silver necklace man, on the other hand, asked you a bizarre question quite seriously while examining a copy of some short story collection right next to you.
“Did you hear about the circus fire?”
“Circus fire?”
“Yeah, it was in tents.”
You looked at his face with creased brows, trying to figure out what the heck he was talking about. Then it… clicked. And you let out a very disgraceful snort. Seeing your features relax, he tried his hand at the lame joke parade once again.
“Isn’t it great that spring is here?” he picked up another book. “I got so excited I wet my plants.”
The things he was saying were so unfunny that you found them hilarious for some reason.
“Stop being so inappropriate, please,” you kept giggling with your eyes intently on the shelf still. “Someone might see us. ”
“I also have a joke about pizza, but it’s a little cheesy.”
Your giggles had evolved into full-on laughter at that point, and you were trying hard not to make a loud sound that would attract attention. He started laughing with you, not that there was anything funny going on, simply because joy was such a contagious thing.
“I just wanted to tell you that you look heavenly this fine afternoon,” he leaned against the bookshelf with his residual grin.
“Fine?” you wiped the tears from your eyes as your laughter died down. “It’s pouring outside.”
“Then tell me why your smile is brighter than the sun, Juliet.”
You snorted again. Apparently, he had enough in his arsenal to do this all day, saying and doing a bunch of corny stuff just to have you make stupid sounds.
“Is that the pizza joke by any chance, because that was so cheesy.”
“But you’re smiling.”
This was brand new to you, to say the least. Nobody had ever tried to woo you, court you by any means, much less through intentionally poor humor than a bunch of sweet nothings. Yet it worked on you. You had found this man ethereally good-looking starting from the very first glance you stole from him at the pier, but turns out he was also as charming as they came. You might have been deluding yourself, but it kind of looked like…
He liked you.
“Say, do you come to Poseidon a lot?”
Panic immediately washed over all your giddiness upon hearing the name of your secret hideout. You shoved him into that little space behind the shelf and pressed your hand on his mouth.
“Please keep your voice down,” you hissed in a whisper.
It was a knee-jerk reaction to shut him the hell up before anybody heard anything, so it took a while for you to process how close we actually were to each other. Neither of you was saying anything, nor were you able to look away for that matter. You were just intensely staring into one another’s widened eyes with deep breaths through your noses.
Then you started... perceiving him for the first time.
Flawless skin, adorned with a beauty mark right under his eye. He was so smooth to the touch, and he smelled incredible, like the lovechild of amber and vanilla, permeating your existence through every single orifice of your body. You could feel how hard his heart was thumping from the way he was breathing into your palm.
You were suddenly overcome with an intense yearning to kiss him. There was no way in hell you could act on it, but it was okay. You could make do with this substitute, too. His lips were on your skin anyway.
“I’m–I’m sorry,” his voice came out all muffled under your palm.
You removed your hand and walked away, all flustered. He kept following you like a magnet with a giddy smile on his face.
“Are you uh… Are you going to come on Friday, too?
“What did I just say about keeping your voice down?” you harshly turned around.
“I think you should. We’re having a little private gathering backstage,” he continued with his attempts to persuade you with his big brown eyes beaming. “Ms. Simone is going to be with us.”
“WHAT?!”
You slapped your hand on your own mouth this time to hush yourself.
You were on the brink of losing your whole entire mind. Ella Simone. The First Lady of Song. Your idol was going to be there, and he was inviting you to meet her?
In person?
“Dear? Where are you?”
You turned around, all alarmed upon hearing your mother’s voice in the distance. Remembering you weren’t here all by yourself, the man hurriedly grabbed your hands.
“Please come. Ask for me at the door. My name is Hyunjin,” he placed a kiss on your hands and flashed a devastatingly bright smile. “I’ll wait for you, Juliet.”
As you watched him walk away with hasty steps, his name kept echoing in your head. Hyunjin.
Hyunjin, Hyunjin, Hyunjin, Hyunjin…
The spots he kissed kept burning for the rest of the day as if he had branded your skin with the outline of his lips.
I don’t care about the technicalities. Looking back, this was our first date.
The amount of embarrassment I felt after asking you to come to Poseidon that Friday, but not giving you the time… Let’s just say I’m not in my right mind when I’m around you. I didn’t even know if you were going to show up for that matter, but I started waiting for you around 4 p.m. As the club started getting more crowded, I couldn’t peel my eyes from the entrance. I wanted to be the one greeting you the second you stepped foot in here. I don’t know how much time passed by when I finally heard Minho’s voice yelling at me.
“Hyun!!! You have a visitor!”
I bolted towards the door so fast that I was surprised how I didn’t knock over several tables along the way. I was breathless by the time I reached you.
“You… You came!”
God, what a beauty. You were absolutely stunning. You might have looked like an ordinary person to anybody else when in fact you were a princess masquerading among her subjects. As if to confirm my suspicions, you reverenced. I knew it was a joke, but I bowed back, doing my best prince impression, and I audaciously extended my hand to you.
Some nerve I have, huh?
But you graciously allowed me to hold your hand as I escorted you inside. I never knew hand-holding was one of the most intimate things a person could experience. I could feel your entire body temperature through your palm. I could count your heartbeats through that simple motion alone. If you simply looked at my throat, you could count mine, too, for my pulse was through the roof.
I told you I’m not in my right mind when I’m around you. It never occurred to me to ask your name until I was introducing you to everyone backstage. You seamlessly intervened before I drew a total blank and embarrassed myself, but I want to say one more time how sorry I am. Somehow, my brain was convinced your name was Juliet.
And don’t get me wrong, your actual name is one of the prettiest things I’ve ever heard, but I’d much rather call you my girl instead. My soul. My other half. I know you’d think I was insane if I said any of this out loud, but when you find the one, you just know.
And I just knew, so sue me.
I realized you were a little tense being around all those people you didn’t know. I learned from Ms. Pearson long ago that a little drink always helped to calm the nerves. Heck, even Ms. Simone rolls one before going on stage. When I asked you whether you would like one and if you had a favorite, by god, I never expected whiskey sour as an answer. Just…
Just how fucking incredible can you get?
I admit, I made it look like I was doing this for you, but in fact, I was about to die of nervousness myself.
It worked. As we reached the bottom of our glasses, you were much more relaxed, smiling more brightly at people, but not just out of politeness. I could tell it was for real because your eyes shine when your smile is genuine. You were answering their questions while looking at them in the face. By then, there was nothing left from your initial reservations, and I loved seeing you so at ease with us as if we had known each other for years.
And I just couldn’t take my eyes off of you.
“A pool table!” you exclaimed and pointed at it. “I’ve always wanted to learn this.”
“I can teach you if you want.”
“Really?!”
You didn’t even wait for me to answer and grabbed my hand to drag me to the table. It always irked me out when people touched me for some unknown reason, but…
But you…
I wish I could spend the rest of my life with you touching me at all times. And this is fucking dangerous because I’m so scared of getting addicted to the feeling. Not the feeling of touching—you touching me.
Teaching you to play pool was the hardest thing I had to endure. Make no mistake, you’re quite a fast learner, but every time I get close to you… I uh… How do I put this delicately?
Your presence alone was already… doing things to me. Now add the fact that I could smell your perfume from that up close. I made goddamn sure there was enough space between us so as not to make you uncomfortable, but every time I was adjusting the way you were holding the cue, I had to… stand behind you, and…
Call me delusional, but I think you knew what you were doing to me, too. I saw the way you were biting into your smile every time I got flustered.
“I’ll be damned, you’re a great teacher, Romeo. Ever thought about doing this for a living?”
Please. Please stop calling me that before I fall irrevocably in love with you. It’s so hard to resist already. I’m one minor incident away from asking you to marry me as it is, for the love of god, please STOP!
I was saved by the bell when Ms. Simone finally graced us with her presence. I swear, the look on your face was priceless when you finally met her.
“Ms. Simone, I’m such a huge fan. I’ve studied all your songs on the piano!”
Really? Fucking really? You know how to play the piano, too?
Just how much more fucking incredible can you get?!
“Then let me see you play, girl,” Ms. Simone pointed at the console piano we had backstage. You, on the other hand, were clearly flabbergasted.
“H–Here?”
“Of course!”
I nodded at you with as much encouragement as I could convey as you shyly made your way towards the bench. When you started playing, my jaw fucking dropped all the way to the floor. I’m not quite proud of what I’m about to divulge, but…
The sudden rush of arousal I felt was at humiliating levels. That was quite literally the most passionate thing I had ever seen. Erotic even.
“Go,” Ms. Pearson suddenly nudged me on the shoulder. “You know the song. Accompany her.”
I had to think fast about all the unsexy things I possibly could to manage my… situation because there was no way I was about to walk to you like that. Chairs. Sloths. Bin’s snoring…
When I finally calmed myself, I picked up Elaine from her case and started playing along with you. Not too long after, Ms. Simone joined us and sang her heart out as flawlessly as she always did.
A roar of applause broke out in the room with the last note, and from the corner of my eye, I saw the way Raquelle was looking at me with spite by the door. She left the area, most likely to tend to some of her patrons. Did I feel bad? Not really, but I did feel angry. I don’t like it when people bring that kind of energy around me and my loved ones.
When Ms. Simone approached you, I left you alone so that you could have your moment with her to your heart’s content. I leaned against a table, just watching you from afar, probably with a dumb smile on my face.
“So that’s the reason for the cold shoulder,” Ms. Pearson whispered in my ear, and there was a huge knowing smile plastered on her lips. “You need to kiss her, my boy.”
“Believe me, I’m willing to sacrifice a lot of things just for one kiss from her,” I told her with my eyes following your every move, “but she’s getting married, Ms. Pearson.”
“So?”
“What do you mean so? She’s… taken.”
She did this every time she wasn’t satisfied with an answer of mine. I felt her notorious tornado smack at the back of my head.
“She’s not some property to be owned, you absolute buffoon!” she spat through her teeth. “She decided to be here with you tonight, didn’t she?”
I mean… She had a point. You didn’t necessarily have to be here. It was a choice. But you probably came to see Ms. Simone; I did tell you she was going to be here. It wasn’t… because of me, per se.
It couldn’t be.
“Listen to me, son. Don’t let people tell you it’ll pass,” she grabbed my shoulders and turned me towards her. “I’ve watched people die of heartache before.”
The way you were beaming with happiness while talking to Ms. Simone… My heart swelled several times its size in my chest because nothing was more beautiful than a happy you. You told me yourself that you had to get married to someone you barely knew as a form of financial security. You told me yourself you didn’t feel like shopping for your own imprisonment. So you didn’t love whoever this goddamn lucky bastard was, that was for sure.
Maybe… Was there maybe a snowball’s chance in hell that you would… choose me?
As you made your way to Poseidon that Friday, you didn’t really know what to expect. The only thing you were acutely aware of was the butterflies invading all the possible space in the pit of your stomach.
You didn’t know what to expect, but you knew what you didn’t expect—having this much fun engaging in things that your mother would call peasant ways. Eating with your hands. Playing pool. Basically everything an alleged lady was not supposed to do. You met some amazing people that day, and everybody was so warm and welcoming towards you that you felt like you had known them for years.
Peasant ways combined with Hyunjin’s presence made you so insanely happy that you could die.
“I did warn you about keeping the last piece of chicken to yourself, didn’t I?” the muscular, dark-haired man everyone called Bin slammed his hand on the table.
“Then you should have prioritized that over your girl’s lips, brother.”
“Oh, fuck you, Hyun!”
A roar of laughter spread around the table. Hyun. People close to him were calling him Hyun. You found the name so endearing that it made your heart swell.
“Hyun,” you whispered to yourself with a smile.
You asked for a bottle of beer to have with your food, but the opener was nowhere to be found. Hyunjin quickly opened it with a knife he took out, earning a very concerned look from you.
“Why do you carry a knife with you?” you pointed at the sharp object.
“Oh, it’s… It’s not what you think!” he quickly put it back in his pocket. “I sharpen my charcoal with this.”
“Your charcoal?”
“Yeah, when I draw. Wanna see?”
He wiped his hands and showed you the leather-bound folder you were already familiar with. It contained pages and pages of his work inside. As the dates at the bottom started going back in time, his depictions became… freer. Streetwalkers on a bridge. People having intercourse. A naked woman blowing out smoke with an absolutely satiated expression on her face. Things that people knew were happening but avoided talking about at all costs.
You were flushed from head to toe seeing those as if you were watching pornography in public.
“Do you… not like it?” Hyunjin hesitantly asked when you didn’t say anything.
How could you not like it? You were on the brink of crying for how much it moved you. You were just thinking about how a person could capture human emotion within a limited space in the shades of a single color.
“These are beautiful, Hyunjin,” you managed to utter with a look of total admiration on your face, your eyes getting a little misty. While his relief was apparent, his smile was trapped between proud and embarrassed.
When you closed the folder and handed it back to Hyunjin, you were met with Bin openly kissing his girl without an ounce of shame across the table. You didn’t mean to stare, but the more you watched it, the more it tickled something in you. Although it was a mortifying thing to admit, you realized that… that you wished…
You wished Hyunjin would do that to you.
“I uh… ER ERHM, I need to use the restroom. Excuse me,” you jumped to your feet to splash some cold water on your face. Otherwise, you were going to spectacularly catch on fire.
You managed to somewhat calm yourself in the restroom, but it was useless as hell because when you walked out, you were met with Hyunjin by the door.
“Are you okay?” he asked with genuine worry. “You left so suddenly. I wanted to check on you.”
“Oh, YEAH, I’m–I’m fine!” you loudly stuttered, but when you caught a glimpse of the happy table in the distance, you involuntarily smiled again. “I’m more than fine, actually.”
“Are you glad you came?”
“Absolutely! This is the most fun I’ve had in… well, ever.”
There was a huge neon sign on the fire brick wall to your right in the shape of a trumpet, and the yellow light emitting from it was cast on you like a spotlight. You were frozen in your place as Hyunjin slowly approached you. The more he closed the distance between you, the more rabid your heart was going. You really wanted to kiss him, but you became so self-conscious of the people in the vicinity that you moved away at the last second.
“Will you… Will you really leave me so unsatisfied?”
“You were expecting some action from tonight?” you immediately responded.
“Fuck, I’m sorry! I didn’t… I didn’t mean to…” he raised his hands in panic to frantically apologize. “It’s–It’s from Romeo and Juliet, and—”
If humans could die out of endearment, this would be it for you. You had picked up on the reference, of course, since you were quite familiar with the scene from the play. Just because you uttered the line using modern grammar with such a straight face, he must have thought you were actually offended.
It took iron-clad willpower not to burst out laughing.
“Let me rephrase,” you held his hands. “What satisfaction canst thou have tonight?”
When Hyunjin saw you smiling at him again, he mustered whatever amount of courage he could and responded to you with so much adoration dripping from his eyes that your heart melted.
“The exchange of thy love’s faithful vow for mine.”
Your smile grew wide, and you placed a chaste kiss on his cheek. Hyunjin turned beet red as if you just shamelessly drowned him in open-mouth kisses for everyone to see. You extended your hand for him to hold this time, and you both returned to the table all giggling.
“You’re an O’Connor, too?” Bin asked you out of nowhere as you were sitting down. Even hearing the name made you shudder with dismay.
“What makes you say that?”
“The shamrock,” he pointed at your glinting necklace, then nodded towards the public area. “Your folks are here.”
You dashed to the door in utter panic, and when you peeked out, you saw all three O’Connor brothers about to sit down at a booth.
“Oh, FUCK me!”
This was the first time you cursed out loud in your life. Hyunjin looked at you with gigantic eyes in shock, then cracked up with everyone else in the room.
“They can’t see me here. I–I need to leave!”
Hyunjin instinctively grabbed your hand along with his folder, and you snuck out through the back door with everyone’s help to remain unseen. You ran hand in hand down the street towards the pier, laughing your asses off as if you were playing a game of tag. It was still the young hours of the night, so it was quite a feat not to knock people over when the streets were that crowded.
When you finally reached the lighthouse, you thought it would be empty inside, but it looked like someone was living there. There were signs of a very modest life. A mattress and a pillow, some books, a teapot…
“Uh… I don’t think we should be here,” you turned to Hyunjin with worry.
“Oh, don’t worry about it. This is my stuff.”
“You live here?” you asked him in sheer surprise.
“Not live per se, but I come here some nights. To unload my mind.”
As he walked to the little portable cooker on the floor to make some tea, you sat down on the mattress and started going through his folder again.
“You really love what you do,” you uttered with a fond smile. “It really shows, you know?”
He didn’t say anything and just sheepishly smiled in response while making tea. You kept turning the pages and eventually saw the obscene compositions again, not being able to help the way you gulped thickly. The curiosity was killing you, and you just had to ask at this point.
“Did you… actually see these people… while… you know.”
“Some of them, yes,” he casually replied. “Europeans are different, I guess. My friend had no problem fucking those women in front of me.”
“And you watched them?!” you shrieked, scandalized out of your mind.
“Not–Not like that. I was in the room sometimes to understand what they were feeling,” he explained. “It’s fascinating to witness how lust manifests on one’s body. It’s unique to the person, you know? Much like a fingerprint.”
Lust as a fingerprint. The thought revolved inside your head as you examined the drawings more closely.
“You said fucking.”
“Hm?”
“You said he had no problem fucking those women in front of you.”
“Oh,” he sat down next to you while handing you a cup. “I didn’t mean to be crass.”
“No, it’s not that. It’s the verb you used,” you smiled at him. “Sounds very… raw.”
“The physical act is exactly the same, don’t you think?” he took a sip from his raspberry tea and looked at the papers. “I mean, I’d love to fuck someone I’m in love with, but making love sounds very ceremonial to me. I’d much rather we were our rawest selves while feeling each other than put on some performance. It’s an animalistic instinct after all.”
The way he described it so honestly made you tingle in places you didn’t know were possible, and you happened to notice the subject he used. So did he.
And he seemed absolutely mortified by it.
“I mean… When I say we, I didn’t… I don’t… I mean in general…”
“It’s okay,” you burst into laughter at the way he was stuttering. “I’ll take your word for it. I don’t have any experience in the subject.”
“Well, me neither,” he shrugged.
To say that you were stunned would be an understatement, but you were. You were stunned that a stunningly gorgeous man like him did not put his hands on someone.
“You… You really never…?”
He shyly shook his head no, but then it devolved into a broken smile.
“But you’ll find out soon enough, no?” he forced a chuckle. “Since you’re… getting married.”
“I expect there will be penetration, but it won’t be an act of love.”
He looked like he was about to say something, but no words came out of his mouth. His shoulders drooped in resignation, not knowing what to do. You, on the other hand, kept going through his drawings and stopped on the one that depicted a man under the sheets from the waist down, his back arched and eyes shut tight, clearly on the brink of a release.
“Do you do this, too?”
“Do what?”
You made it a point to hold his gaze intently when you replied.
“Touch yourself.”
It took a couple of seconds for him to react, but he couldn’t say anything out loud. He nodded somewhat abashed instead.
You wondered what he was touching himself to.
“How does it feel, Romeo?”
“How does what feel, beautiful?”
The name caressed something inside you, tainting your lips with a smile. You didn’t know where this brazenness came from, but you didn’t feel a shred of shame holding this conversation with him.
“An orgasm.”
You weren’t really curious about what an orgasm felt like, per se. You wanted to know what it would feel like if Hyunjin gave you one. You wanted to know in how many ways you could die in his arms. You wanted to know what he looked like watching your release.
He, on the other hand, was appalled at what he just heard.
“You surely have… I mean… Yoursel… Like…”
It entertained you way too much that he couldn’t say it out loud even though he had no problem depicting what fucking was mere seconds ago.
“I’m not following,” you feigned ignorance and looked at him with big confused eyes to elicit the word ‘masturbate’ from him, but he kept beating around the bush.
“You know,” he drew lines on the floor with the tip of his shoe. “Make love to yourself.”
“I thought you said making love was ceremonial.”
“If you’re gonna do it to yourself, it better be ceremonial.”
You burst into a loud cackle that was so disgraceful, but honestly, you didn’t give a rat’s ass anymore. Hyunjin was right about wanting to be his rawest self, and it wasn’t just about lying with someone. You wished you could act exactly like this all the time, doing and saying whatever felt natural to you.
But you only… wished.
“I’ve never made love to myself before,” you spoke in a mischievous whisper.
“Oh,” he responded, still unable to look you in the eye. “How–How come, though?”
“See this?” you pulled down your bust the tiniest measure to show a glimpse of the corset you were wearing under your dress. “I’m not allowed to take this off.”
“But when–when you’re bathing—?”
“I’m not allowed to bathe myself, either.”
Hyunjin didn’t know what to say. There was nothing to say about it anyway. Nevertheless, it didn’t stop him from looking confounded to learn that you were denied very basic things in life. Meanwhile, your eyes darted to his folder again.
“I’d love for you to draw me like that, too.”
You didn’t know where that came from. You weren’t completely inebriated to say things you didn’t mean, either. Something about Hyunjin just pulled the words out of you. He was completely bewildered at what he was hearing, almost breaking the cup in his hand from gripping it too tightly.
“You… You want me to watch you while someone else is—?”
“NO! God no, I didn’t mean it like that.”
You put down your cup on the floor and scooted closer to him. There was an amalgam of hesitance and expectation on his criminally beautiful features. His lips slightly parted when you leaned in, and you could see how his eyes darted to your mouth, intently watching the shape of it when you uttered the words in a whisper as if to let him in on a little secret.
“When I touch myself.”
There was nobody around for you to feel self-conscious anymore, and Hyunjin was right there, breathing heavily and utterly unsure of what to do next. It was like he was waiting for an indubitably clear sign from you just so you wouldn’t take him for what he absolutely was not. You hyperfixated on his sinful lips and when you leaned in mere millimeters closer to him, he couldn’t hold himself back any longer.
Your very first taste of pleasure. Your first kiss. Your first kiss with him.
It was a very simple motion of him pressing his mouth against yours, but it set an uncontainable wildfire on your entire body. When you moved your lips, he started kissing you deeper, tasting as much of you as he could. Your hands traveled on each other’s faces, wanting dangerously more with each passing second. You were going crazy with the intensifying scent of his cologne mixing with his own natural musk, and he tugged you even closer when he noticed how sharply you were inhaling him. You were both breathless when you stopped to catch your breath, foreheads pressed against each other. You dared to look him in the eye in a momentary lapse of sanity, and there was only one desperate plea written all over that gaze.
Can we please do it again?
You gave in. Of course. Of course you could do it again. You could do it all the time.
“You taste like heaven,” Hyunjin spoke against your lips. “God, you taste like a fucking aphrodisiac.”
When he cursed… It stirred something unknown in you. Raw. Just like he said.
Was this… what falling in love felt like?
“Can I touch you?” you asked him, your breathing barely stable.
Touch me. Feel me. Murder me with your fingertips. Perish me under your skin. I’m yours to consume until there’s nothing left of me.
But what spilled from his lips was the complete opposite of what he was craving.
“Not now,” he brushed your hair behind your ears. “It’s not the right time.”
You were quite obviously disappointed, but you also knew he was right. You lowered your head, somewhat ashamed of what you just asked of him.
“But you can touch me here,” he guided your hand to his chest. His heart was beating like it was about to give out. You couldn’t help the urge to kiss him again.
Your kisses were shapeshifting, getting more and more passionate, and it was about to cross a very dangerous threshold for him. It was becoming harder and harder to hold his desire for you on a leash. He needed to step away right fucking now for you were colonizing his entire existence, but he would rather kill himself than do something inappropriate to you.
“I don’t… I don’t wish to disrespect you,” he suddenly stopped, panting heavily. “I wouldn’t even dare, but–but I…”
You actually wished he would disrespect you. You wished he would defile you right then and there and claim you for himself so that you would be with a man you were feeling intense things for. You’d love to be tainted, a hand-me-down, a second-hand, as your mother described women who had premarital intercourse, but at least you would be Hyunjin’s.
At least you would be choosing the man responsible for your goddamn happiness.
You touched his concerningly reddened face as if he was coming down with something, but he still couldn’t open his eyes to look at you. He was trying so hard to keep his breathing stable.
“I–I still want to make love to you. With my words only,” he shakily uttered. “It’s more than fine if you say no but… but would you love me back?”
It wasn’t what he said; it was the way he said it. Scared and desperate and almost lovesick. You smiled at him and cupped his face to appease his apparent fears.
“So you want it to be ceremonial.”
“Yes,” he finally snapped his eyes open and replied without an ounce of hesitation. “For you, yes. Whatever you want from me, yes to everything.”
You pulled him closer for another kiss, and he took it as an invitation from you. Your lips were swollen from being loved so intensely, but you didn’t care. You didn’t care one bit.
“You still didn’t tell me what an orgasm feels like,” you whispered against his mouth. Hyunjin briefly locked his gaze on you, and then...
“An orgasm feels…”
As he spoke, he ghosted his lips on the naked skin of your collarbones, alarmingly close for you to anticipate a kiss, but still keeping the bare minimum of a distance.
“...really…”
Your shoulder.
“…really…”
Your neck.
“…really good.”
Your lips.
“Like a crescendo.”
“Tell me how you touch yourself, Romeo.”
Your face was burning as much as Hyunjin’s, but you couldn’t tell if it was because of embarrassment or extreme arousal.
“Do you think I’m attractive?”
What kind of a redundant question was that?! Was air necessary? Was the sky blue? Everybody who had eyes would acknowledge this indisputable fact.
“Oh, please…”
“But do you? Look at me,” he lifted your chin to make you face him. “Do you find me attractive?”
“It’s ridiculous how beautiful you are, actually.”
“It’s ridiculous how beautiful you are,” he spoke, voice still barely audible. “Does it… Does it feel wet between your legs?”
“Yes.”
“When the time is right,” he caressed your hair. “I will ask your permission to let me lick it clean. Nothing else. Just taste you. I want to kiss you there just like I’m kissing your lips. Only wetter.”
You squeezed your legs together out of instinct. That tiny bit of friction indeed felt good, and he noticed the way you were almost squirming.
“It gets to you when I talk like that, doesn’t it?” he smirked all content.
“I don’t know wh— I don’t kn— I…”
He softly chuckled into your ear, all endeared, and still refusing to directly touch your body in the slightest.
“That’s because I arouse you, beautiful,” he whispered. “But believe me, it’s nowhere near how much you arouse me.”
Your eyes instinctively closed. So this was what making love with words felt like.
“Come closer,” you lightly pulled on his wrists. “Walk me through it. Everything you will do to me.”
Hyunjin crawled right behind you and started speaking directly into your ear with the softest voice.
“You will be bare for me from the waist down. I’ll have the privilege of touching this supple skin,” he put his hand on yours. “It might feel ticklish when I start kissing you… right there.”
He pressed your hand on your crotch, avoiding direct contact. The only thing he was touching was your hand, but it felt like he was rather teaching you how to please yourself. He was keeping the tiniest measure of distance between you out of whatever amount of respect he could show you in this context. You did not have any experience but you were not naïve, either. You knew he was doing it so that he wouldn’t be… touching you.
“Closer,” you breathily exhaled. “I want to feel you against me.”
He was clearly hesitating, but you erased all his doubts on his behalf when you yanked on his arms and pulled him flush against your back. You were able to feel his heartbeat down your spine and how hard he was on your hips. The scent of his cologne got denser on your nostrils, completely getting you drunk on him.
“Keep going,” your pulse started to escalate to match his rhythm. “Tell me. Tell me how you’ll love me.”
You intertwined your fingers with his. The way he was breathing down your neck made you feel tingles all over your body.
You had never felt this naked in your whole life.
“I’ll explore every inch of your body to learn what you like. I’ll devote hours to it if that’s what it takes. Days even. Weeks. I’ll learn how to touch you just right. I’ll drown you in kisses. You’ll want more and more, and I’ll give it to you.”
You squeezed his hands with all your might as your breathing started getting labored. Hyunjin continued much more shamelessly in your ear.
“I’ll taste you everywhere. I’ll tease you until your pretty cunt aches for more. You’ll sound so fucking delicious whimpering under me, moaning my name over and over again. You’ll just tell me where you want me on your body, and I’ll oblige, but I will not lick you until you force my head between your legs. I want you to become as hungry for me as I am for you.”
Hungry for you. He was hungry for you. The more obscene his language got, the more unhinged you were becoming. You could completely picture everything he said. It felt like he was already on your body, about to break you in, and you were loving that it was him.
You were loving the way he loved you no matter how hypothetically.
“Touch yourself with me, Hyunjin,” you exhaled in one breath. “Right now.”
That was a pleasant surprise for him to notice that you weren’t this timid little thing, but unfortunately for him, you were very much aware that his arousal levels hit the roof when you uttered his name in such a desperate and commanding tone at the same time.
“Don’t–Don’t say things like that or I’ll—”
“I won’t watch if you’re embarrassed,” you reassured him. “I just want to know what it feels like.”
“What what feels like, my soul?”
Why would you say that?!, you wanted to yell at his face. As if the way he was making you feel was not intense enough. As if he wasn’t imprinting himself all over your existence already.
As if you needed further encouragement to fall madly in love with him.
“When you… When you climax because of me.”
“The lowlife term is cumming, you know,” his voice was riddled with mischief. “Say it. Say you want to watch me cum.”
“I want to watch you cum.”
You didn’t hesitate. You didn’t stutter. You flat-out told him what you wanted, knowing full well it snapped something in him. He couldn’t take it any longer, and you felt a very wet kiss on the left side of your neck. The buzzing sensation between your legs intensified threefold.
You were oozing.
“Say you want to watch me cum to you. Say you want me to be a slave for you,” you heard his belt unbuckling behind you. “Say you love me. Say you love me back. Please.”
You pecked his right hand with your eyes still closed, then turned it around to sloppily make out with his palm. His breathy moans started becoming louder in your ear. When you finally let go of his hand, he started stroking himself in a languid rhythm. You couldn’t see it, but you were able to clearly hear it.
“It sounds so wet,” you squeezed your eyes harder. Hyunjin, on the other hand, managed to shove the softest of chuckles in between his panting.
“This is what it will sound like when I’m inside you.”
God, his words… His words alone were making you throb between your legs. Your wetness was so out of control by then that you felt like you had soiled yourself. It felt like a part of you was itching, and you badly needed to scratch it. You were seeking that friction that was going to relieve you. The fabric of your corset was thick, but you pressed your fingers on it as hard as you could and started rubbing yourself.
“You mean when we… when we’re fucking.”
“Yes, when we’re fucking. When we’re making each other go insane,” his voice started becoming high-pitched. “You’ll feel so warm, so tight around me. You will drag me through hell when you start moaning in ecstasy. You will kill me when you cum all over me. My face. My cock. Everywhere.”
You leaned against his chest and spread your legs wider to rub yourself properly. Hyunjin held your other hand and locked his fingers with yours.
“No one has ever made me feel this way,” he barely managed to utter while heavily breathing. “I know I shouldn’t, but I’m so gone for you. I want to be at your beck and call. I want to be your man. I can’t see anything else but you.”
“I want to see,” you sat up straight in one go. “Please let me see how you’re touching yourself to me.”
You didn’t know why you always pictured male genitalia as something unpleasant because when you turned around, you saw exactly how pretty Hyunjin was, flushed pink with clear liquid pooling around the very tip. The moment you caught a glimpse of him, it felt like a dynamite exploded inside you, and you felt yourself getting infested with the most obscene thoughts you had ever had. You wanted to do so many things to him. On him. With him.
There wasn’t an ounce of rational thought left in you, and you were finally able to internalize the meaning of raw. The only thing you were able to process was your most primitive urges taking over, which you didn’t even realize you harbored within you.
“Touch me while I touch you, Hyunjin.”
“D–Don’t… If you do…”
“Touch me.”
You grabbed his hand and pressed it between your legs over your clothed core. Feeling him even through all those layers of fabric jump-started something in you, and you watched yourself wrap your fingers around his cock, careful not to hurt him. He was so warm to the touch, burning to the point of spiking a fever, and you replicated the exact same vigorous rhythm he was stroking himself with. You unleashed yourself on his lips completely instinctively, and once he slipped his tongue inside your mouth and started swirling it around yours, something violently erupted deep inside you, causing you to convulse hard as you held onto him for dear life. Not too long after, you felt something warm and wet gushing all over the hand you were pleasuring him with, his muffled moans echoing inside your mouth and reverberating throughout your entire body.
You felt pleasantly tired, but you also felt like you were glowing. You felt this odd sense of total satiation that you had never once felt in your life, and it made you giggle like an idiot.
“How do you feel, Juliet?” he asked you while cleaning your hand. The contentment on your face was the complete opposite of the words you uttered.
“I think I’m dying.”
“You look stunning when you’re satisfied, you know.”
Hyunjin crawled right next to you and pulled you into his embrace. You could feel the way he smiled when he kissed your hair. You lay there in silence for some time, just basking in each other’s warmth, allowing yourselves to live in this little bubble of coziness that defied all reality.
Nevertheless, all good things had to come to an end. You fixed your appearance and let Hyunjin hold your hand as you walked back to the Institute building where you were supposed to be picked up in another half an hour or so.
“A thousand times good night,” you told him before entering the building. He kissed your hands and reciprocated your line.
“A thousand times the worse to want your light.”
When Hyunjin went home that night, he spent hours drawing the exact expression on your face while you were cumming. He didn’t know what you looked like under your garments, but he’d at least seen you from collarbones up.
That was enough for him to draw a bust clearly indicative of you being naked just for his eyes to see.
“What is it, dear?”
“I’m aware at this point I’m probably considered engaged to Ryan although I don’t have a ring or anything,” you added a finishing touch in your hair with a black silk ribbon. “Hypothetically speaking, if the Mayor’s son approaches me tonight, should I avoid conversing with him?”
“That would be very rude. There is no harm in entertaining a conversation,” she winked at you.
That was enough to make you properly nauseated.
“I hate to be asking you this, and I wouldn’t if I absolutely didn’t have to,” you tugged on the hem of your shield. “My corset makes it very hard for me to breathe in this dress.”
“Oh, come on, dear, I’m sure you can endure it.”
“The concert is over two hours, Mother,” you appealed to her superficial logic. “I really don’t wish to pass out on stage and disgrace myself. Please.”
She eyed you from head to toe and made a quick calculation in her head, eventually punctuating it with a sigh.
“Fine, but only this once. Do not make a habit of this,” she started untying the laces on your back. “I still don’t understand why I cannot come to this event.”
“I’ve explained this already, Mother. It’s by invitation only, and they all go to very high-level people. There won’t be any parents there tonight.”
And that was the second lie you told her in a span of thirty seconds.
When you asked me to come with you to the reception thrown in honor of your ensemble, I panicked. Hard.
Needless to say, I don’t have experience with high-class events, and I only have one suit. Thank goodness Ms. Pearson was there when I showed up at Poseidon because I don’t want to imagine what would happen otherwise.
“Good god, my boy, surely you’re not going to escort her like this? You look hideous!”
She dragged me to the artist lounge and put me in one of those expensive tuxedos reserved for orchestra members, made some quick calls, and before I knew it, I was at the mercy of some glam people. I have to give it to them, though—they did such a fantastic job in such a short amount of time that if I appeared on some red carpet looking like this, no one would be able to guess they were looking at Hwang Hyunjin from Magnolia Street.
Ms. Pearson had arranged a fancy town car for us to make an appearance as she called it. She was over the moon when you also invited her so that she could network. Between you and me, once you’re okay in her book, you’re there for life. As we were waiting for you to arrive, she orchestrated quite the bluff to make me look good, though.
“Mr. Hwang here is an up-and-coming musician as well. Quite the saxophonist training under Mr. Parker.”
“Really? Are you headlining anywhere, my good man?”
“He will be headlining at The Titan this summer.”
The moment the man we were talking to left us, I felt the need to urge her to pump the brakes because what the hell indeed.
“Damn, Ms. Pearson, you wanna cool it a little?”
“Shush. Just follow my lead.”
Well, she was the boss lady around here, so she probably knew better, right?
When you finally walked through that door, dazzling the heck out of me, she took it as her cue to leave the premises. You know she’s like my mom, so I hope you didn’t mind that she hugged you that openly in public considering who she is. It’s just not that common of an occurrence for her to see me happy. She’s really fond of you, you know?
I watched your magic for however long that was, but honestly, it felt like only five minutes to me. I wish I could watch you longer. The way you play… Your attachment to music… It’s just mind-blowing, Juliet. Tonight reaffirmed to me just how much you and I are meant to be.
You’re literally my other half.
After the concert, you were surrounded by people congratulating you just like you deserved, and I couldn’t feel any prouder watching you from afar although I had nothing to do with this. It’s like… This is the woman I love, you know. Witness her magic. Be as hypnotized by her as I am. She deserves the world. She deserves all the good things life has to offer.
Looking at everyone else crowding that hall, I didn’t feel like one of those good things.
These people were… different from me. They had the means. Call it money, power, influence, talent, or whatever you want. They had all the things I didn’t have, and they could offer you many more things that I could only dream of offering you in my wildest dreams.
But tonight wasn’t about me. It was about you. It was your moment to shine, and I just felt lucky enough that I was able to witness it.
“Wonderful tonight,” I lightly touched your arm and turned around to see myself out.
“Going somewhere?” you looked at me with huge, sad eyes.
I can admit this now. If you didn’t ask me that question, I was really going to leave. I wasn’t sad or anything; on the contrary, this was one of the happiest nights of my life. I just didn’t think… you needed my shadow around you.
But it was at that moment that I decided to give you the piece of paper I was keeping in my pocket.
“I uh… I’ll just get some fresh air,” I discreetly handed you the note I had hastily scribbled.
Not even two minutes later, you actually came. You had an apologetic look on your face when you absolutely shouldn’t have.
“I’m really sorry for not being able to get out sooner,” you approached me with quick steps. “These people can talk.”
Just… Why are you this beautiful, Juliet? You make me wanna cry sometimes.
I heard an Ella Simone song playing in the distance. I was convinced just mere minutes ago that I had no place in your life but…
I love you. I can’t help it. It’s wrong maybe, but I love you with sincere greed.
“Can I have this dance?” I extended my hand to you.
You took it. We danced under the moonlight in that garden where no one was around. We kissed each other slowly as if we had all the time to kill in the world. I fell deeper in love with you, and I could swear you loved me, too.
Then you said something that shortened my lifespan by ten years.
“Take me back to your lighthouse, Romeo.”
This was how you knew it was real. All your waking thoughts were riddled with Hyunjin. The way he smiled at you. The way he looked at you. The way he tightly held your hand. His eyes. His lips. That little mole on his face you were dying to kiss. Just… Everything about him was invading you. Your mind. Your heart.
And your body.
You couldn’t even keep track of how many times he appeared in your dreams, doing the exact same things he whispered in your ear. Just loving you, fully unhinged. You were both falling under a euphoric spell as you ravished one another until the sky started gaining consciousness again. Dying in each other’s arms just to be resurrected into the same life. In the same breath.
You knew in your heart of hearts that you belonged with him. And you wanted to belong to him. In every sense of the word possible. That was why you asked him to take you to the lighthouse again without any hesitation.
You wanted this more than anything else.
“Are you nervous?”
“No,” you replied with a total lack of pause. “Put your hands on me.”
He did. He put his hands on your face while kissing you, but you felt something you had never felt before, which was cause for concern.
“You’re trembling, Romeo,” you kissed his hands. “Are you nervous?”
“I’m just overwhelmed,” he shook his head. “I can’t stand the idea of you being with someone else, but if it’s what it takes to be with you… I’ll–I’ll settle for being the other man.”
“Do not say such things ever again!” you held his face in your hands. “There’s no other man. There’s only you.”
You kissed him like you never did before to get your point across. You kissed him so that he knew once and for all the sovereignty he had declared in your heart was a once-in-a-lifetime thing. That you couldn’t even see anyone else. That he had sole possession of your soul.
“Do whatever feels natural to you,” he whispered with a quivering voice as if he was left out in a blizzard for hours. “Teach me how to touch you right.”
“Undress me.”
It was the most unrushed thing ever. He was so careful with the way he was stripping you as if you would disappear into thin air if he got one move wrong. Excruciatingly patient. You did the same for him as you got rid of his bowtie, his blazer, and his shirt, just leaving him bare for you to appreciate.
When you were finally naked, Hyunjin admired you with his jaw dropped like you were the world’s eighth wonder. It made you chuckle. He hugged you tight and put his hands on your back, pressing you close to him and just kissing you. Your shoulders, your cheeks, your lips… When he reached your neck, you ripped the necklace off of you and tossed it to the side for nothing was allowed to come between you.
Absolutely nothing.
“Only you,” you pulled him into a kiss again. As deep as it could be.
His mattress felt cool against your back as he lay you down. The only thing accompanying you was the sound of the waves crashing in the distance.
“You’re too beautiful,” he placed a kiss on your forehead. “Did you know you taste like my other half, Juliet?”
Your hands were all over each other, albeit very clumsily. Your somewhat abashed giggles tickled each other’s eardrums every once in a while, but they were subdued when one of you touched somewhere just right. Even the way you looked at each other would change when that happened. You took quick mental notes and iterated the motion that caused the other to let out that delectable sound of pleasure. Much better than any piece of music that could ever be written, past, present, or future.
“Turn around.”
Hyunjin was devastatingly enticing to witness in his full glory. You kissed all over his bare back like you would kiss his plush lips. Delicately, with intention, with meaning. Tattooing little I love yous on his skin every time you pressed your lips on him.
“Oh… God…”
You found it. That spot right under his right shoulder blade. That one spot that sent an absolute shockwave down his spine. His drive crazy button.
“I could… I could cum to this.”
“Then cum,” you silently whispered into his ear.
You held both his hands and alternated between his shoulder blades, listening to the escalating frequencies of his moans under you. His skin was on fire under your touch, but you didn’t care. He could burn you alive like this, and you would die the happiest death.
One.
Two.
One.
Two.
One…
“FUCK!!!”
He really came.
When you turned him around again to face you, there were beads of sweat on his forehead. You wiped it clean and kissed him there. Then his nose. Then his cheeks. Then his lips. As his breathing was returning to normal, he was somewhat embarrassed about the mess he made and tried to cover it up with the sheets.
“No,” you stopped him. “I’d much rather we were our rawest selves.”
You made your way down between his legs, and all he could do was watch you with crushing anticipation.
“It’s an animalistic instinct after all,” you flashed a smile, simultaneously comforting and mischievous.
Hyunjin flinched with sharp exhales when you kissed him on his crotch. Your lips were getting stained with his cum. His face contorted in pleasure as he watched you taste him, and if he was properly recuperated at the moment, you could swear you’d be able to make him cum again right then and there. He was so sensitive to the touch, but he didn’t care, either.
He just let you do whatever felt natural to you.
And to you, what felt natural was kissing all over his most vulnerable corners and dragging your tongue over the bitter essence of him. You would absolutely detest this if it was any other person, but just because it was Hyunjin, the taste shapeshifted in your mouth. You sipped on him as if he were a refreshing glass of whiskey sour rejuvenating and intoxicating you at the same time.
“Lie down. Let me,” he eventually stopped you and traded places with you. “Let everything out. Don’t stop yourself.”
Him. Right there. On that mattress. Over you. Getting ready to pleasure you.
Was he even aware of how hard it was for you to not go insane?
If you were overwhelmed before, you were on the brink of having a damn seizure now that he was this close to your soaked cunt, glistening perfectly under the dim lights of his oil lamps. Hyunjin couldn’t decide what he wanted to do to you first. Touch you, or kiss you, or lick you… Which one would you like the most? Which one would make you cum so violently that you would ask him to please please remember it and do it again? Because he would. He would do it until he conditioned you to cum with a single drag of his tongue on your skin.
You were keenly watching everything, anticipating his every move. You suddenly remembered what he said to you all those times ago in this very place.
I will not lick you until you force my head between your legs. I want you to become as hungry for me as I am for you.
You weren’t sure if that was a hypothetical question or not as you simply couldn’t be any hungrier for him. You knew that for a fact because all that ruled your entire mind and body was your most carnal desires, and all of them were about Hyunjin declaring all your uncharted territories as his.
“Touch me,” you somehow managed to utter.
When he pressed his thumb on your clit, you flinched hard in your place. The more he provided friction, the more aroused you were, but it wasn’t enough. Hyunjin simply touching you could never be enough. You couldn’t take it anymore and tangled your fingers in his hair to press his beautiful face between your legs.
“Oh, FUCK!!!”
His mouth on your pussy was everything you could dream of. So warm and wet, slowly licking your clit, gently sucking on it, kissing you deeply just like he kissed your lips but only wetter. You were involuntarily grinding against him to get as much friction as possible, and with each lick, you felt closer to dying.
“Hyunjin, please,” you started whimpering under him. “Hyunjin. Hyunjin. HYUNJIN!!!”
This feeling was impossible to describe. This beautiful man you were crazily in love with, the man who deeply loved you back, gratifying you in the most obscene way possible and taking obvious pride in it, looking dead into your eyes as you came hard into his mouth, hungrily savoring every single drop you had to offer until you begged him to stop… This couldn’t be real. The amount of passion and affection was so otherworldly that it just could not be real.
“You’re my dream come true, Juliet. I love you,” Hyunjin kissed your soul out of you with those lips that tasted exactly like you. “Love me back. Love me harder.”
“To hell with making love,” you held onto his shoulders. “Fuck me.”
“You’re hellbent on killing me tonight, aren’t you?” he beamed at you with delight.
He aligned himself with your entrance and started moving inside you with very shallow thrusts, watching your every mimic to understand how you were feeling.
“More,” you urged him. “Push more. I can take it.”
He held your gaze at all costs as he gently moved further and further and further and finally…
“I love you, my soul,” he quickly pecked both your hands. “I’ll love you with everything I got now.”
He started thrusting into you with sharper movements. The way he was gliding inside you so easily, the sheer amount of pleasure he was drowning you in when he grazed against your swollen walls like that… You wanted to die. You wanted to die right then and there so that this was the last thing you remembered from this life.
Nothing could feel this good. Nothing could make you feel more satisfied than the man you were deliriously in love with paving his way into you. His face all convoluted, panting heavily, confessing his love over and over again through desperate moans.
“Hold on to me,” he put your hands on his shoulders. “Look at me when you say you love me. Just look at me.”
You couldn’t even say it properly for you were in absolute ruins under him. All you could do was clench and throb and hope that he was able to translate that somehow. Seeing how much he liked it when you squeezed him inside you, you clenched harder and harder and harder until you felt him spill inside you with a deliciously loud groan.
You wished you could do this every night in a bed that belonged to the two of you. You wished you didn’t have to come back to your senses and hug him to sleep instead. Even after giving yourselves to each other, you had to face the ugly truth of putting that goddamn necklace around your throat again like a noose awaiting your death.
Every time you left the lighthouse, the cool night breeze would greet you, giving you a breath of fresh air until you had to go back to your reality.
When you opened the door this time, you were faced with all three of the O’Connor brothers instead.
“The FUCK do you think you’re doing here with my girl, you fucking lowlife?!”
It happened so fast that you couldn’t even process it. The three men ganged up on Hyunjin and started beating the crap out of him while all you could do was scream for help, beg for Ryan to stop while trying to pull him away, and violently cry.
“OH, YOU GOT SOME GODDAMN NERVE!!!”
By whatever stars aligned, Ms. Pearson burst through that door and broke the fight off in an instant. She was surprisingly strong for a woman. You noticed there was someone else who came with her. The beautiful girl from Poseidon.
“Learn to put a leash on your man, whore,” Ryan spat at Raquelle’s feet while wiping the blood from the corner of his lips.
“Learn not to get castrated, O’Connor,” Raquelle dexterously drew a knife and pointed at his throat. “Stay put. We’re leaving.”
You wanted to say something, do something, but you were frozen in your place. All the strength left your body, and you sat on the floor when your knees gave out, just watching Raquelle take Hyunjin away. In the meantime, you were somehow able to register Ms. Pearson’s voice echoing in the room.
“You three are familiar with Mr. Ricardi, right? Your father’s boss?” she spoke directly to Ryan.
“And?”
“I happen to have a very close relationship with him, young man. If you don’t believe me, next time you see him, tell him Ms. Pearson said hi and watch the blood drain from his face,” she fearlessly walked towards the three men at the same height as her and pointed her finger at them. “You will not speak of this to anyone. If you do, I’ll dig a miniature O’Connor family grave myself. Now get the fuck out of here.”
The second they left, she rushed to you to hug you, rocking you back and forth like a little baby as you cried your eyes out in her chest. You didn’t know for how long you stayed there in her arms. When you finally calmed down, she put you in a car and instructed the driver about where exactly he needed to drive you off.
“Ms. Pearson, Hyunjin—”
“Shh, he’s okay, precious. I’ll be with him,” she patted your head through the window. “Go home and get some rest, okay? He’s in good hands. I’ll let you know how he’s doing as soon as I can.”
Meanwhile, at a very empty Poseidon, Raquelle was in the middle of cleaning Hyunjin’s wounds, surrounded by a temple-like silence.
“How do you know him?” Hyunjin broke the silence at last.
“Who?”
“O’Connor. You called him by his name.”
“Oh,” she replied, unfazed. “Yeah, he’s one of my regulars.”
“How did you even know how to find me there?”
“They were here at the club and left extremely angry for some reason. I heard your name being mentioned, so I thought I’d follow them.”
She poured some more antiseptic on a piece of cotton and gently dragged it on Hyunjin’s lips.
“You really should have thought it over before calling yourselves Romeo and Juliet. They both die at the end, you know,” she spoke with pseudo-indifference obviously laced with envy. “Was it worth getting beaten to a pulp?”
“Yes, it was. I’m not about to compare getting some scratches to being away from her,” Hyunjin immediately answered, visibly annoyed.
Raquelle Shecter. Beauty queen. Famous burlesque dancer. Desired by the entire town and earning way more money than she could count. One thing she was not, however, was being Hwang Hyunjin’s object of affection no matter how hard she tried.
She had tried being subtle, being not-so-subtle, even being embarrassingly obvious, getting her pride severely damaged in the meantime. One thing she had not tried, however, was flat-out telling Hwang Hyunjin how ridiculously in love she was with him.
“I can quit this life just to be your girl right fucking now,” she finally blurted out. “Just say the word. You’d always be my main man, Hyunjin. I can make you so damn happy!”
Hyunjin closed his eyes and took the deepest breath of his life, trying his utmost best to keep his composure.
“I’m not going to repeat this again, Raquelle. Don’t ask me to do impossible things,” he stood up in one swift movement. “And next time you attempt to pull some shit like this, at least have the guts to properly finish the job.”
Raquelle Shecter. Beauty queen. Seen as the ugliest creature by the man she hopelessly loved for how transparent she was.
“Hyunjin, please, it’s not what y—”
“Don’t!” he shushed her. “I know you think I’m not as smart as you, but just don’t insult me anymore.”
As Hyunjin left the premises with a busted lip and bruises all over him, Ms. Pearson watched her adopted son seethe in fury and sorrow from a dark corner. The moment the front door closed, her heels started clicking on the hardwood floor as she approached Raquelle sitting on a bar stool all by herself.
“You were the one that led them there, weren’t you? The O’Connors,” she rhetorically asked as she sat down on the stool right next to her. “Love is many things, silly girl, but if you’re willing to watch the person you love get hurt and not even blink, that’s called something else.”
Jeanette Pearson. Fierce lady, but a complete softie towards the people she loved. Mother to all kids who lost their way. She had seen so much in her life that it gave her the superpower of recognizing shame from five miles away.
“I’ve always liked you. I know deep down you’re a nice girl. You just made very bad choices somewhere along the way,” she swiveled on the stool to face Raquelle and spoke very softly as if she was reciting a fairytale. “But Hyunjin is my son, and that crosses a line. I don’t give a fuck who you think you are and who you know. I’ve lived twice as long as you, and trust and believe, you don’t want to know who I know and what I’m capable of doing. ”
“What are you saying?” Raquelle failed to veil her nervousness.
“I’m saying you can lead a horse to water, but you can’t make him drink. I need you to stop acting crazy and leave him alone.”
Jeanette Pearson. Known for her graceful badassery. True to her reputation, she pulled out a knife from her purse twice the size of Raquelle’s and silently placed it on the bar counter.
“Otherwise I won’t be responsible for what might happen to you.”
This is worse than prison.
Ms. Pearson told me to lay low for some time, but I’m about to go crazy missing you, Juliet. I can’t eat. I can’t sleep. I can’t think straight. I keep thinking about you, and I’m worried sick not knowing if you’re alright or not.
I know I need to keep it together for both of us, I know. I know you have it worse than me, but I’m gonna die if I can’t see you soon, my soul. Even just a glimpse of you from miles away would suffice. I just want to know if you’re okay.
I keep thinking about the night we vowed ourselves to each other. I miss you. I miss your scent invading mine. I miss your taste on my tongue. I miss being wrapped around you like your safety blanket shielding you from all harm. I caress my pillows every night imagining it’s you. I caress myself thinking you’re still with me in my bed. That this is not happening and we’re not apart and I’ll wake up to your beautiful face next to me in the morning. I don’t touch myself to satisfy some need; I do it so that I can at least see you in my dreams. I’m running out of tears to cry over you. I miss you. I miss you so much.
Hang in there a little while longer, my soul. I won’t let anything happen to a strand of your hair.
Completely contrary to your expectations, none of the O’Connor brothers seemed to have said anything to anyone, but that didn’t stop them from stinging you with thinly veiled sardonic comments whenever you faced each other. If anyone accused them of being rude, all of them would break into a uniform smile and say something along the lines of, “We kid, of course. We are close enough now to have our inside jokes,” when it was so obvious what a blatant lie that was. What was worse, your mother didn’t seem to have a problem with it as long as an O’Connor was willing to take you.
You couldn’t sneak out anymore since you were escorted everywhere by the personal bodyguards of the O’Connors now. Your mother was next-level insane for thinking this was a gesture of Ryan being doting and protective. You weren’t able to see Hyunjin at all, and it finally prompted your descent into rock bottom.
You stopped getting out of your room even to go to school. You refused to see a piano for how much it reminded you of Hyunjin. Heck, everything reminded you of Hyunjin, and Ms. Pearson didn’t keep her promise to let you know how he was doing. It had been days, when was soon exactly? You were cursing at yourself for not memorizing the phone number for Poseidon. You just needed a piece of news to not go fully crazy. Something. Anything.
Even getting out of bed seemed like an extremely difficult task, and you started contemplating how much you were worth. A necklace? Some clothes at a department store? One flimsy lunch?
“Dear? Could you come outside, please? Ryan wants to see you,” your mother’s singsongy voice pierced through your locked door.
“I don’t feel well, Mother. Please send him away.”
“But he came all the way here to see you, dear. Fix yourself quickly and come out.”
All the way here. From Desmond Hills to Beauvoir Drive, it took less than ten minutes by car. This prick was so used to getting everything he wanted that he had pulled up to your house just because he felt like it. Not even asking if you were decent first. Not even asking whether you had the will to face daylight. Ryan wants to see you. Not Ryan is asking if he can see you. Not even Ryan is here to see you. His Highness wanted it, so there was no other option but to oblige.
“No.”
“Young lady, don’t make me come in there.”
What could she possibly do if she came in here anyway? Drag you from your hair and throw you at Ryan’s feet? Didn’t she have enough trying to live a reality she wanted for herself through you? Wasn’t everything she forced on you fucking enough? Wasn’t being treated like a little china doll enough? Wasn’t this godforsaken straitjacket of a corset ENOUGH?!
That was the absolute last straw.
You started screaming your lungs out, ripping your linen gown into pieces with inhumane strength as well as that fucking corset. You could hear her mortified voice descending into worry echo outside your room, but you didn’t give a damn about what she had to say anymore.
“Young lady, it’s me,” you heard Shima crying with you. “Please. I’m begging you, please let me in. I’m by myself. I won’t let anyone inside. Please let me see you!”
This was the first time you heard such desperation in Shima’s voice. Your hiccups abruptly stopped like a baby finally hugging his mother. You carefully approached the door, very slowly turned the key in the lock so as not to make a noise, and opened it a microscopically small measure to see who was outside. It was indeed Shima by herself, still crying. You pulled her in, locked your door, and hugged her tightly to douse her chest with your tears. You didn’t know how much time had passed when you finally calmed down. She was trying to soothe you by caressing your hair in her lap.
It reminded you of Ms. Pearson a lot.
“Why are you this enamored with the artist boy, young lady?”
The unexpected question made you finally face her. A half-shocked, half-mortified look clouded your eyes.
“You… You knew?”
“How long have I been taking care of you? You are not as sly as you think,” she warmly smiled, her voice so small like a whisper to keep this conversation strictly between you. “Why do you love him so?”
“Because he saved me, Shima,” you confessed. “He unlocked the door of my cage and set my soul free.”
She didn’t ask you any further questions and kept stroking your hair lovingly just like she did on the Sunday mornings she braided your hair. If she told you she was your biological mother, you would believe her without any room for doubt.
Why was every other woman more motherly than your actual mother for goodness’ sake?
After sending Shima away, you lay on your bed until the darkness of the night arrived to hug you. You watched the clear sky until it was the deepest hours of the night. Your tears fell in sync with some shooting stars. You kept wishing on them to see Hyunjin one more time, to hug him tightly to remember what he smelled like, to run your fingers through his silky hair once again, and to peck the mole right under his eye. You cursed at the fact that you had to be born into two diametrically opposite universes.
“Wherefore art thou, Romeo?” you uttered between your sobs as if he could actually hear you.
The gentle tapping of the branches on your window lulled you to sleep like thick raindrops hitting the glass. It continued. It continued for a long time. When you opened your eyes, you were greeted with a dark figure waving at you from your window, but instead of terror, your heart was filled with unadulterated bliss.
You would recognize that silhouette among a thousand shadows.
Your wish had indeed come true a little past midnight. He was crazy. He was full-on insane for even attempting this, not that you were of very sound mind. You carefully opened your window to let Hyunjin in, and the second he stepped foot in your room, he hugged you as if he wanted to squeeze the life out of you. You buried your head into the crook of his neck, inhaling his scent until you were on the brink of passing out. His tears blended with yours as you kissed each other’s souls away for you just couldn’t stop crying.
Out of happiness for once.
“I’m going insane without you, my soul. I had to see you,” he whispered in between his kisses.
“I don’t care what anyone says,” you held his face between your hands. “I’m yours. Only yours.”
“Then deny thy betrothed and refuse thy name,” he smiled at you blindingly bright. “Come away with me. Marry me. We won’t have much, but I promise I will devote myself to making you the happiest woman on earth.”
Then he took a modest silver ring out of his pocket, and you almost surrendered your soul right then and there.
Love doesn’t feed you. It never will.
FUCK all of that.
“Yes,” you offered your hand to him. “ In all the lives I can spend with you, always yes.”
You crowned your impromptu engagement, the real one this time, by kissing the man you loved for a long, long, long time, avenging all that time you had to spend apart. Nothing was as easy as getting lost in Hyunjin. The man was quite literally made to be loved.
“We… need to… stop…” he attempted to stitch his words together. “Before we have an accident.”
“Or,” you pulled him close to your bed. “You can stay the night with me.”
“But… But there are peopl—”
“Didn’t you miss me?”
“What the hell kind of a question is that?!” he quietly hissed, then drowned your face in kisses. “I’ve missed you like crazy. I fucking miss you even when I’m in your arms.”
When your other half is with you, everything comes so naturally. You had taken a bite of pleasure less than a handful of times, but every time Hyunjin touched you, you just knew this was how it was supposed to be. You pretended you were making love in your actual marital bed that night. Then you talked in whispers until the first lights of daybreak, telling one another everything that happened in each other’s absence in excruciating detail. You felt better for the first time in forever. He was smiling. You were smiling. He said he loved you. You said you loved him more. You both said But I love you most in unison. Then Hyunjin told you all about the plot he was concocting as of late.
“Just act like you will really go through with this wedding, Juliet,” he kissed your forehead. “Lucky for us, your letter from Verona did not get lost in the mail, and I’ll know you’re faking your death.”
People use many different words when they talk about me. “Free spirit” is one of them. “Rascal” is another. Now I have something else.
Romeo.
It’s been such a long time, but it still rings in my ear as beautifully as it did the very first time you called me that.
I know I said we wouldn’t have much if you married me, but apparently, that was a lie. Even before our big night, you give me so much every single day, Juliet.
You wake me up with kisses, sometimes not even on my lips. You smile so big when you see me cook breakfast for you. You don’t even get mad at me when I burn things sometimes. You listen to the poems I write for you. You let me brush your hair when you get out of the shower. You let me love you endlessly, and I’m so proud to call you my girl. My soul. My other half.
The day we finished composing our song for Ms. Simone, you wanted to name it Charcoal Blues in C Minor. I acted like I was caving and letting you have the last word when in fact I spectacularly lost my goddamn mind over it.
She promised to sing it at our wedding, by the way. Act surprised.
It wasn’t that you wouldn’t accept it if I flat-out asked you, but luring you into a deal is always much more fun. You know how much I love teasing you. So we shook on it. You agreed to let me draw you.
When you touch yourself.
You know exactly how to torture me, you absolute seductress. You know I can’t think straight every time you talk to me like that. You know how my mind goes completely blank when I see you bare.
“You’re still going to pay me for this, right?” I asked you while sharpening my charcoal. “I don’t draw for free.”
“Oh, is that so?” you stood in front of me with your arms crossed over your chest. “How much, pretty boy?”
“Five thousand.”
“Excuse you?!”
“Or, you know, you could let me eat your pussy.”
God, I love it when you smile at me with fire shooting out of your eyes. That’s the sexiest fucking thing. I don’t care how many layers of clothes you have on you; it instantly turns me on.
“Do you take the payment in advance?” you straddled me on my chair and threw your arms around my neck. I lose it every time you do that for how your scent envelops me through and through.
You’re much better than whiskey sours at getting me drunk.
“Always, my soul.”
Stripping you fully naked is something, but having you half-dressed for me, only bare at your most sensitive spots is something else entirely. This feels more erotic to me. Only a couple of your shirt buttons loose, just enough to let me suck on your nipples. Your underwear is still on, and I only slide it to the side to kiss your clit.
I guess it all started when we fucked on the pool table at Poseidon that night. I still remember how hard you came, fucking—
There aren’t many surfaces in this house where I haven’t eaten your pussy, but my desk is surprisingly one of them. I’ve been saving it for this moment specifically. But I’m not going to do the half-opened present thing today. I want to see you fully spread for me, and I want to see everything up close. The exact moment that you start dripping. That you start throbbing. When you can’t take the teasing anymore and prop up on your elbows to watch me make out with clit.
It doesn’t change. Every time my face is between your legs, it feels like home to me. Every time I get a taste of you, I’m so grateful I’m alive.
“Lick first.”
Now, always from your entrance. Always from the source of the spring. I love spreading your slick all around you with my tongue. I know how much it annoys you when I lick everywhere and avoid your clit at all costs, but you do trust me, don’t you? I do it for a reason.
“Kiss me.”
Of course, I will. Just knowing my lips are fully covered with you gets to you, doesn’t it? You like it. You love it. You love it when I kiss your other pair of lips like that. But I might be enjoying it a little too much for my own good. I always make sure to whisper my confessions to you every time I kiss you down here. It’s a little game I invented for myself. I get a kick out of it when you decipher the shameless secrets I hide in sighs and start moaning louder.
“Suck me now.”
This is where I cease the torture. It tickles me to see your clit get that swollen when I barely do anything to it. It feels like you’re silently begging for me. You always say you like my lips so much, but I think I finally figured out why. When I trap your clit between them and start sucking on it, doesn’t it feel like a perfect match? It’s the perfect sleeve for you. Meant for you to sit on whenever you feel like it.
“Oh god, don’t… don’t stop!”
Oh, there it is. You’re calling out to me with that desperate tone. You’re about to get impatient and start riding my face. You want it all, don’t you? You don’t want the feeling to stop because the prelude feels so good, but you do want to cum hard at the same time. You can only have one or the other, beautiful. Do you want the endless buildup?
“Hyunjin!”
Or do you want me to endlessly tease that clit until you lose it?
I’m in love with satisfying you, but all I can think about is how I’m gonna slide right in if I make you cum.
“FUCK!!!”
I don’t know what it is about you cursing a mouthful that turns me into an absolute wild animal, but it does. You know it does. When you cum in my mouth, tugging at my hair as hard as you can, that’s your way of giving me permission for what I’m about to do to you. Your walls are still throbbing, and you take me in so easily. Feeling your aftershocks on my cock is my favorite part.
Who needs lubricant when I have you?
It’s the same thing as you pushing my head down when I lick you. Even though you just came, you love it when I hit your deepest corners when you’re so damn sensitive. Me?
I’m so fucking obsessed with it that it’s actually a problem now.
“Don’t–Don’t clench like that. Please!”
Every time I say please, you do the complete opposite. Please touch me. You won’t. You relentlessly tease me instead. Please kiss me. You won’t. You ghost your lips on me until I fucking snap. Please make me cum. You fucking won’t because why would you when you can edge me forever?
But when I say Please don’t make me cum…
You rip my soul out of me and chuck it down the depths of an ocean made of molten lava. And I fucking love it when you do that and soothe me with your kisses right after.
“I love you, Romeo.”
Ms. Simone might be the First Lady of Song, and rightfully so. No one can dare oppose that. But you’re my first and last of everything, Juliet.
Romeo and his fair lady might have been star-crossed lovers who fell victim to a tragedy, but you and I…
I know in my heart of hearts that we are beyond forever.
✉ Enjoyed this? Your feedback & reblogs free my stories from the draft prison.
COOKIE
See? It was meant to be 💛 Hyunardo DiHwangrio belovedest.
「© 2023-26, cb97percent · No translations, rewrites, or reposts permitted」
🔖 Permanent taglist (Updated Dec '25. Form here if you wish to join): @straywrds @lee-omens-fics @skzfelixlove @xocandyy @surreallyst-void @jhstayy @krayzieestay @tirena1 @idiotmaterial @hwangjoanna @hwajin @tsunderelino @rubycrescentjane @stayjinnie @dessianna1 @dollce-exe @rylea08 @palindrome969 @breakmeoff @unimportantweirdo @miyaluvvsyou @pinkflowerdream @bunniie0325 @vixensss @homelessmeowmeow @birdiebangsworld @burntbang @vampcharxter @biribarabiribbaem @thinkingaboutlana @velvetmoonlght @compersian @wobblewobble822 @pixie-felix @geni-627 @y-ur--i @deaddovesandstraykids @wanna-plan-world-domination @im-kimmmm @shuporanporang @ariaaleelynn @yaorzu-blog @leenoknow143
*The blogs in red do not show up when @ ed. If you did not receive a notification, please check the visibility settings of your blog. Thank you!
